


It's a Dangerous Job, But - Wait, Did I Just Volunteer?

by Brigantine



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-28
Updated: 2011-09-28
Packaged: 2017-10-24 03:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brigantine/pseuds/Brigantine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Florida, Ray Vecchio figures his life could have turned out worse.  Maybe a little quieter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's a Dangerous Job, But - Wait, Did I Just Volunteer?

"Are you _kidding me?_ " The entire bull pen could hear Ray squawking into the telephone. He didn't care.

"No, it's not that I don't have it, of course I have it! That's not the problem here at all! The problem here is that if I pay an $1800 security deposit on a $900 apartment, my eyes will begin to bleed. I will bleed out of my eyes, and I refuse to ruin this tie! D'you want to be responsible for ruining an Armani silk tie? Do you?"

From somewhere behind him and to his left Ray could hear a sort of bashing and thumping, and a familiar growl. He pretended not to notice it. He was a man on a mission. He hung up the phone and crossed off yet another possibility in a dwindling list of promising apartments in this morning's classified ads.

The bashing, thumping and growling continued.

Ray steadfastly ignored this and dialed another number on the list. A woman answered. "Mrs. Clark? This is Detective Ray Vecchio, and I'm calling in regard to the two-bedroom apartment you have listed in this morning's Tribune…"

Something ceramic crashed and shattered.

Huey sighed meaningfully.

Ray ignored both noises.

"Yes, it would be two adults, one turtle, no children…" Not officially, anyway.

There was a low, animal howl and the screech of metal giving way.

Ray cringed, but refused to be distracted.

"No, we don't smoke…" _They_ wouldn't smoke by the time _he_ found them a new apartment, he had promised himself.

There came the sound of something large slamming into a solid object, followed by the subtle clatter of plaster crumbling onto the floor, and a string of curses so vile as to make a Marine blush.

Welsh bellowed from the doorway of his office, " _Vecchio! Do something about him! Now!_ "

Ray leapt to his feet and babbled into the telephone, "Please excuse me ma'am, we seem to be experiencing a minor apocalypse, I'll call you back."

He whirled and stalked rapidly toward the lunch room, hollering for Kowalski. "Stanley Raymond, what are you destroying now, besides my reputation as a rational human being?" After a year partnered with the skinny nutcase, it was all the same thing, really. "Explain yourself, you hyperactive freak!"

Inside the room Ray Kowalski, Ray's potential roommate, crime-fighting sidekick, and personal cross to bear, appeared at first glance to be dancing with the snack-vending machine, but Ray had seen Kowalski dance, and this was in no way that.

Kowalski flung the vending machine back against the already-scarred wall, where it shuddered briefly before settling on short, creaking metal legs. "This--" He flailed and kicked a booted foot at the machine, "--motherless son of a computer chip ate my dollar and will not give me my food!"

Behind Ray a young file clerk named Elliot Johansen slipped from his hiding place near an overturned waste can, and bolted for safety.

As he stepped up next to Kowalski Ray could feel the outrage radiating off of him. "What exactly were you after?"

Kowalski huffed and pointed, "Those."

Chocolate chip cookies, giant size, of course. He was pouting; not much, but Ray recognized a pout when he saw one, and that disappointed scowl together with that little bit of lower lip Kowalski had thrust out made him look about five years old. Ray had yet to figure out how the guy pulled that off. Kowalski's face had a lean, hard-edged look to it, just like the rest of him, and he'd probably been working on those angry lines along either side of his mouth since he was fifteen, but somehow when he was disappointed or hurt, and it was kind of shockingly easy to hurt Kowalski, he looked like a little kid. Maybe it was the great big blue eyes, or his untamed hair, or his mouth, all rose-bud red…

Ray shook himself inwardly, reasoning aloud, "Tell you what - if you quit dismembering the precinct lunch room, I will buy you all the cookies you want. Not that you need the sugar, God knows."

Kowalski grimaced apologetically and leaned lightly against Ray. "Sorry about the bellowing."

"You heard that, huh?"

"They heard that on Pluto." He nestled, just a little, a brush of his chin over Ray's shoulder. "How's the apartment hunting going?"

"Every time I confess I'm a detective with the Chicago PD with an insane Polack for a partner, the security deposit doubles."

"It does not."

"You are the second-most irritating partner I have ever had," Ray scolded gently.

Kowalski snickered and nudged him with one pointy shoulder. "Am not."

"Okay, if you insist, you are number one in irritating me. Come on, let's get some lunch - far, far away from here - and then we'll see if we can find you some bad guys to yell at."

Kowalski cricked his neck happily and bounced a little at the suggestion. "Yeah, okay. I want pie."

Ray steered him out of the lunch room and toward the bull pen. " _If_ you behave like a semi-civilized person, and do not annoy the waitress by throwing little pieces of napkins or making log cabins out of your green beans, I will buy you pie."

"I hate green beans. I don't know why they even bother giving 'em to me by now."

"Ours is a world filled with mysteries, Kowalski..."

Behind them, the vending machine clanked, wheezed, listed 31 degrees to the right, and spat out a crumpled packet of crackers filled with artificial cheese.

 

\--#--


End file.
